Falling For Her Boss

by Kay Lyons

  Thankful for the change in mood, he grinned at her awe-struck expression. “My granddad’s,” he said, trying to see the large house through her eyes. “I hope you don’t mind, but I thought we’d have lunch here and spend a little time with him?”

  Melissa shook her head quickly, her expression softening to one of concern. “Here I’ve been going on and on, and I never once asked. How’s he doing? I heard about the stroke. You found him?”

  “Not me. The housekeeper, Meg. She’s also the cook and all-around wonder woman. She’s worked for my granddad for years. A home-care nurse comes by every day, but Meg fills in the gaps.” Tearing his eyes away from hers wasn’t easy. “The first hour after a stroke is critical because sometimes the damage can be reversed if care is given quickly enough, but Granddad had the stroke during the night and didn’t get help until hours later.”

  “The damage is permanent?”

  Bryan nodded and stopped the car. No amount of money or ability could change his grandfather’s health now, but he’d do his best to see to it his grandfather’s sacrifices wouldn’t go unacknowledged.

  “He’s the reason the clinic is so important to you.”

  Leave it to Melissa to understand. “It might have started off as his dream, but it’s become mine.”

  Melissa flashed him an understanding smile. “Then we’ll make sure it happens. Your grandfather was a wonderful doctor, well respected and loved.” Her expression turned thoughtful, speculative. “Maybe with his permission, we could play up that angle? Use him to remind the people of Taylorsville what they lost or could lose in not having the clinic we all need?”

  “I like the sound of that. It gives the clinic a more personal feel. I’m still considered the newcomer to town, but if Granddad shows his support—”

  “We’ll have the majority of the town,” she stated confidently. “He doctored so many people, their children. Grandchildren. Bryan, that’s it! That’s the key to making this fund-raiser a success.”

  He stared at her, taking in her conquer-the-world expression and the smile that pulled her lips up at the corners. In a matter of moments Melissa had gone from being sad and teary eyed to determined to see the job done.

  Yeah, he liked it. He liked it a lot.

  * * *

  INSIDE THE six-thousand-square-foot house, Melissa looked around, unable to keep her mouth from hanging slightly agape while Bryan closed the massive double entry doors. The house was absolutely beautiful from the outside, but inside it was a designer’s dream. A mixture of old and new, antiques and modern furnishings.

  A complicated block pattern in what appeared to be cherry inlay dominated the floor. Darker stained wood encircled the entry, giving the floor the look of a cherry-bound wooden rug. Leaded-glass doors stood open off the elegant foyer, and a peek inside showed it to be a salon or parlor, the furnishings proudly holding time-worn knickknacks and antiques. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Like stepping back in time,” Bryan agreed. “I’ll give you a tour before we leave.”

  She followed him dazedly. Along the hall were black-and-white photos of the original Dr. Booker, shiny silver tags with descriptions and dates at the bottom. One picture was of Dr. Booker standing outside his practice with an early-model Ford parked alongside a horse tied to a porch post, another of him and the first baby he’d delivered, another in a hospital surrounded by children. “Bryan, is that…?”

  Bryan chuckled. “Yeah. Granddad was on vacation in Rome when he heard about some kids getting sick at a local orphanage. He went to see if he could help and had been there three days when he heard a commotion. A group of nuns came into the room with a man in long white robes. Granddad said he was so exhausted it took him a minute to realize who it was.” He smiled. “Come on, I’m hungry. Granddad is usually in the sunroom this time of day. You can ask him about the photos and hear the stories firsthand.”

  Eager, she allowed Bryan to pull her deeper into the interior. What looked like Tiffany lamps lit the way and wind-up clocks were everywhere, some with pendulums swinging, some with suns and moons.

  “When he moved back to this area and began practicing medicine, a lot of the people didn’t have money to pay him, but they had their pride so they brought him other things. Family heirlooms, farm stock.” He lifted a hand. “Clocks and quilts. He refused the majority of it, but over the years he still managed to accumulate quite a collection.”

  They turned a corner. Ahead of them, Melissa heard a woman’s voice followed by a sharp, inhuman cry.

  “That’s Charlie. He’s a cockatiel and one of Granddad’s many payments.”

  Bryan rounded another corner and hesitated, slipping his hand from her arm to the small of her back where it rested lightly. He appeared unaffected by the contact, but Melissa felt a surge of warmth shoot through her when he guided her into the room, his chest brushing her shoulder.

  “You two up for a visit?” Bryan called, smiling.

  “Dr. Booker!” A smock-clad nurse turned away from her patient in surprise. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes! Come in, come in! I was just about to go ask Meg about Randall’s lunch. Would you like me to tell her you’ll be joining your grandfather?”

  “That’d be great.”

  Melissa recognized the nurse immediately, but before she could form a greeting, she saw Randall Booker. He watched them from his wheelchair, his head lowering once in a nod of welcome when he saw her looking at him. She smiled. “Hello, Dr. Booker. You have a beautiful home,” she murmured, trying hard not to let the old man see her dismay at his appearance. The once robust man she’d known was no more. Dr. Booker looked his age and then some. Forcing the sting of tears away at how fragile the old man appeared compared to when she’d seen him last, she turned her attention to his nurse. “Hello, Tilly, it’s nice to see you.”

  The woman’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Melissa? Oh, honey, don’t you look wonderful! I didn’t even recognize you!”

  Bryan glanced from Tilly to her. “You two know each other?”

  The nurse crossed the room and pulled her into a hug. “I should say we do!”

  “Tilly was my home-care nurse for a while,” she told Bryan, “and she took wonderful care of me.”

  “Because you made it so easy,” the older woman said, patting her like a proud parent.

  At Bryan’s gentle prodding, the three of them moved closer to Randall. “How’s your son?” Melissa asked along the way. “Has he settled down any since we spoke last?” She hated that the sweet woman worried herself sick over a child who didn’t appreciate his mother’s love.

  Tilly shook her head. “I don’t think that boy will ever settle down. He’s living with his girlfriend, but I see him about every day or so. He comes over quite a bit in the evening and just sits around the house, but I don’t mind. I like having him there. It gets too quiet otherwise. Oh, listen to me prattle on. And look at the time!” She bent and picked up the book and chart from the couch. “I’m going to have to run, but first I’ll let Meg know you two will be staying for lunch.”

  “She won’t mind?” Melissa asked, sending a hesitant glance Bryan’s way.

  “Ha! Meg loves showing off her cooking skills anytime she gets a chance. Right, Randall?”

  The old man nodded.

  Tilly winked and patted Melissa’s arm again. “While I’m in there, I’ll see about getting you some lemonade or iced tea, too. Sound good?”

  “Sounds wonderful,” Bryan said, rubbing his hands together. “I could use a drink. Thanks, Tilly, we appreciate it. The drive in the sun made me thirsty, and Meg’s lemonade is the best.”

  The nurse hugged Melissa one last time, told the elder Dr. Booker to behave himself, and then excused herself with a murmur.

  Bryan took her elbow in hand. “Granddad, do you remember Melissa York? Starting tomorrow she’s my office manager. Brave of her to take it on, huh?”

  Only the right side of the old man’s mouth curled up. “Good see you ’gain.�
�

  “You, too. You’re looking well, Dr. Booker.”

  He shook his head. “Too many Doc Bookers-s. I—I’m juss Randall n-now.”

  “Randall it is then.”

  A large bank of windows dominated one side of the room, the sunlight warming the space. On his perch in front of the windows, Charlie shifted and squawked, apparently tired of being ignored. A sharp whistle split the air, followed by, “Pretty girl, pretty girl.”

  “Charlie, h-hush,” Randall ordered firmly.

  Melissa laughed. “No, please, don’t hush him. That’s the best compliment I’ve gotten all day.”

  Randall’s eyebrows rose in response before he glanced at Bryan.

  “You know me better than that,” Bryan countered, grinning rakishly. He stepped forward and gave the old man a hug, then shook his hand, holding it in both of his. “Melissa and I went to visit a friend in the hospital, and thought we’d drop by to see you.”

  “I hope you don’t mind, but Bryan has promised me a tour of your house later and I plan to hold him to it. The pictures along the hall are amazing.”

  Randall nodded, smiling his lopsided smile. “Good years-s.”

  Melissa took the seat Bryan indicated and stared at the men, noting that Bryan looked very much like his grandfather. They shared the same angular features, the same intense green eyes. Randall’s once-blond hair had long ago turned white, and the stroke had marred the man’s physical appearance, but he cut quite a striking figure all the same. He sat in a wheelchair dressed in green patterned pajamas, a throw over his legs, his bifocal glasses perched on his nose.

  “Has Meg treated you to any of her desserts this week?” Bryan asked.

  Randall shook his head. “Mean w-woman—won’t share.”

  “In other words, your sugar must be acting up and Tilly’s watching her like a hawk. Don’t be too hard on them. You know it’s for your own good.”

  “Man’s-s got to die…s-sometime. M-Meg’s desserts good…way.”

  Melissa laughed softly, earning Randall’s appreciative glance. He gave her his lopsided smile again, the sight causing her heart to constrict painfully. What would Bryan do when he lost the grandfather he loved so much?

  “Melissa has agreed to help me come up with some fund-raisers for the clinic, and she had a great idea as we pulled up outside. Melissa?” Bryan’s expression urged her to tell the story.

  “Oh, um, well, I thought—hoped—we might put a more personal spin on things and remind people of all the years you cared for us.” She tilted her head, trying to judge Randall’s response. “And how you could’ve used the clinic’s help yourself. We’ve all probably needed it at some time and will need it more in the future as Taylorsville grows.”

  The old man appeared to give it some thought before he nodded. “M-might work.”

  Bryan leaned forward until his elbows rested on his knees, his hands clasped as he tried to contain his excitement. “Then maybe you wouldn’t mind if we used some of the framed pictures of you for the flyers and promotion? I’m still the new kid in town, but if we focus on the fact this started as your dream—”

  “Don’t m-make old m-man look foolish.”

  “Never,” they said in unison.

  “Absolutely not,” Bryan added. “We wouldn’t do that.”

  Melissa stared, struck by the tender, loving expression on Bryan’s face, easily seeing how women could fall for him if they were on the receiving end of it. It was a good thing she knew better, otherwise after yesterday she very well could find herself thinking of Bryan as a man instead of a boss. What a disaster that would be.

  “Y-you can u-use them.”

  “Great! You’ll make this clinic a reality yet, Granddad.”

  Randall indicated Melissa by lifting his hand. “L-look like your m-mother.”

  Melissa had smiled at Bryan’s boyish excitement, but just as quickly caught her breath at Randall’s words. “Thank you, that’s another wonderful compliment.”

  “P-pretty woman. B-beautif-ful.”

  “Yes, she was,” she confirmed. “I— Bryan told me a bit about the pictures in the hall. I saw the one of you and your infamous candy jar. I’ll never forget the horror I felt when the dentist said I had a cavity. I begged my mother not to tell him about your jar so he wouldn’t be mad at you and make you stop giving the kids treats when we came to see you.”

  A gruff sound left Randall’s chest, and it took her a moment to realize it was laughter. Smiling, she glanced at Bryan and found him staring at her, obviously pleased but seemingly aware of how his grandfather’s compliment had made her feel.

  Once, maybe, she could’ve been considered pretty. Beautiful was a long shot on a good day, but she hadn’t appreciated her appearance then, hadn’t thought about how it could alter. Now with her short hair, radiation-tattooed body and no breasts, well, beautiful wasn’t even in the realm of possibility.

  “You wore p-pigtails.”

  She made a show of grimacing and clamping a hand loosely over her face and peeking through her fingers. “Oh, no! Please don’t remind me! My mother used to insist every little girl looked cute in pigtails, but I hated them.”

  Both men laughed as she’d intended.

  “S-sad when your m-mama passed. Good w-woman.”

  Once again Melissa fought to keep her smile in place. Couldn’t they talk about something else? She didn’t need the constant reminders of what she’d lost. She felt those on a daily basis. “You gave her a lot of comfort in those last days.”

  “She made…best apple p-pie in town.”

  At least now Randall touched on a happy subject. “Did you know she won first place at the county fair every year she entered? Got to where she had to guard her recipes anytime someone came to the house.” Melissa smiled. “I keep her recipe box hidden in my room because I’m determined to guard her secret ingredient.”

  All three of them laughed at the statement, but her laughter and Bryan’s seemed strained. Her imagination? A moment passed, the room silent.

  Bryan stood. “Tilly’s awfully quiet in the kitchen. Makes me think Meg took a rolling pin to her. I’m going to check on her and give her a hand with those drinks.”

  Melissa watched Bryan leave, feeling awkward at his sudden abandonment.

  “P-poor boy.” Randall lifted his left, stroke-curled hand toward the doorway where Bryan had disappeared. “He still mourns that g-girl.”

  What girl? “I’m sure he’s just checking on drinks for us.”

  “More’n that. Can’t b-bear to talk ’bout it. Reminds-s him of h-her. She d-died, too. Canc-cer.” He shook his head roughly, his gaze meeting hers, the slackness on the left side of his face not diminishing the intense look in his eyes, one that seemed to beg for her understanding. “He was g-going to m-marry her.”

  “Bryan was engaged?”

  Randall shook his head, his green eyes bright. “They broke up before it h-happened. He w-watched her pass though. Such pain. Now he s-sleeps ’round…t-to forget.” His eyes narrowed, his frustration with his inability to form the words fast enough obvious. “R-right woman make’m better though.” He lifted his hand and pointed a trembling finger at her. “M-make’m love ’gain.”

  Melissa tried to calm her panicked thoughts. She scooted to the edge of her seat and fought the urge to get out of there as quickly as possible. “Um…I think you might have gotten the wrong idea about me and your grandson. We’re not— I’m just an employee. I mean, we’re friends, but we’re not a couple or anything.”

  “Never b-brought w-woman here.”

  He hadn’t? “It’s not like that,” she insisted, fighting the images in her head. Images of Bryan holding her, kissing her. Making love to her? But he’d never be able to do that. Even knowing what he knew about her illness, now that she knew he’d loved someone and lost her, it was unthinkable.

  “You must not remember what happened to me.” She shook her head and slipped her hands between her thighs and the couch to c
ontrol their shaking. “I had cancer, too. The same as that girl and my mother, and Bryan’s my boss.”

  “S-so? Many a d-doc married his h-help. My Penny w-was my nurse at f-first.”

  That might be so, but there were a million and ten reasons why she couldn’t. Why Bryan couldn’t. “But if Bryan’s playboy reputation is based on seeking…comfort from all those women, the last person he needs o-or would want is someone like me.”

  The old man stared at her with Bryan’s eyes, measuring, assessing. “Forgive me. Old man’s-s wishful thinking. Was j-just glad my grands-son had f-finally brought a g-good girl home.”

  An incredulous laugh got caught in her throat. A good girl? Somehow, she didn’t quite see herself as the catch Randall imagined. She’d been a pregnant teenager, a college dropout, a cancer patient. Yeah, quite a catch. “I’m not, Randall.”

  “He s-sees you that way. Always h-has.”

  Really?

  “Here’s the lemonade,” Bryan called, walking into the room carrying a loaded tray. His attention fastened on her face and his smile faded. “Something wrong?”

  She felt Randall’s knowing gaze on her and fought for composure. “No, why do you ask?”

  “You’re blushing.” Bryan winked at his grandfather and set the tray on the table between them. “I haven’t seen a woman blush in ages, have you?”

  Randall laughed, his frail body shaking in the wheelchair, his eyes hinting at things Melissa didn’t dare consider because if she did—

  “S-see what I mean?”

  —it would ruin everything.

  Five hours later Melissa smiled weakly and waved at Bryan to drive away while he waited in his Mercedes for her to walk to the front door of her house and go in. She needed a moment to recoup from the day. Not only from the slam of emotions after the visit to the hospital, but from Randall’s comment and all the weird thoughts that ran through her head as a result. She’d spent the afternoon second-guessing everything Bryan said and did until she’d been ready to scream from frustration.

  Footsteps dragging, she approached the front door and had just made it to the threshold when it was yanked open, startling her.